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I still my hand but don’t remove it. “So it is like the articles say, male nipples are also sensitive.”
“What type of articles have you been reading?” His tone is amused.
“You know, stuff.”
“What type of stuff?”
I blush. “Sex stuff.”
“Sex stuff, huh?”
“That’s how I keep myself knowledgeable. Happy now?”
He chuckles, and I can’t stay mad or pouting when he does that. It’s like a happy song. My own happy song that only I know its lyrics.
“I’m actually not surprised.”
“You’re not?” I ask suspiciously.
“You were always a curious little kitten.” He taps my nose. “Why would you be different about sex?”
“You remember that?”
“I told you. I remember everything about you.”
“No, you don’t.”
“Try me.”
I narrow my eyes. “When did I have my first tooth removed?”
“First grade.”
“When did I decide pistachio is my favourite flavour?”
“During pre-school’s summer.”
“What’s my favourite animal?”
“Tigers, but you settle for cats because you can pet them and raise them.”
“Then why don’t I have one?”
“Because you were traumatised after Luna’s death. You still miss her and don’t want to have your heart broken again.”
My chin trembles, but I continue asking. “What’s my second favourite colour?”
“You don’t have one, because all other colours aside from green suck.”
God. He does remember. “When did I have my first kiss?”
“Sloppy smooches or real ones?”
“All.”
“It was with me when we were ten and I kissed you on the mouth, not the cheek.” He pauses, jaw tightening. “As for the real ones, I don’t know.”
“Ronan’s party, with a certain drunk arsehole who kissed the daylights out of me, then told me I was disgusting.”
